


Thank you, Harry

by Smutmonger (Jayel)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Bottom Harry, Come Eating, Daddy Kink, Dreamsharing, Harry discovering he has lots of kinks, Impersonation, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manscaping, Polyjuice Potion, Rimming, Roleplay, Top Voldemort (Harry Potter), Virgin Harry Potter, Voldemort has many kinks, daddy!Voldemort, dubious consent due to polyjuice, enema spell, sexual awakening, various kinks mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21542893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayel/pseuds/Smutmonger
Summary: Harry realized that the ‘dreams’ were actually real-life events. Somehow death eaters were getting their hands on his DNA and using Polyjuice to please their lord. There were six in total, and each served a particular purpose. Or rather, a particular sexual mood that Voldemort wished to indulge in the nights he called for them.It seemed unfair that the others got to use his body to feel things he hadn’t yet explored for himself. The more of these dreams he had, the more he begun to imagine exploring it with Voldemort. He could, couldn’t he? Harry could pretend to be one of the death eaters pretending to be him.
Relationships: Death Eater Characters/Voldemort, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 39
Kudos: 381





	Thank you, Harry

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged the sexual acts that Harry and Voldemort engage in with each other, but there are many more mentioned in this fic (some detailed, some not). The reason they are not tagged is because I didn't want to be misleading for someone who is looking for that sort of fic. However, even just a vague mention of these kinks might squick some people out. So, please turn back now if these sexual acts bother you: blindfolds, blowjobs, bondage, cockwarming, come marking, gags, hair pulling, humiliation, (borderline?) rape fantasy, rough sex, slutshaming, sex swing, or sounding.  
If I missed something that disturbed you and you wished you were warned here please feel free to let me know.
> 
> Furthermore, Harry's reactions and thoughts to what's listed above is not meant to kinkshame or glorify one over the other. It's a set up for what Harry will explore in a sequel I may eventually write (MAY - there are a lot of other plot bunny demanding my attention first).

The first time it happened, Harry thought it was just a dream. A fucked up, but otherwise normal wet dream. Well, perhaps not _normal_, as it was more vivid, coherent, and memorable than his other dreams, but that could be written off as shock. After all, it wasn’t like he normally thought about fucking Voldemort. Apparently his subconscious wasn’t so opposed. Harry felt equal parts aroused and ashamed. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye the day after the first dream, but it had lingered on his mind for many days later.

When it kept happening, Harry spiraled into an increasingly confused state arousal and embarrassment. It didn’t help that most dreams were very far from vanilla. If it wasn’t bad enough to desire his mortal enemy, it seemed like Harry’s subconscious conjured increasingly depraved scenarios. Such scenes crept up into his waking hours, and it quickly became common for Harry to daydream in his more boring classes, like history or divination. He always tried to avoid such thoughts in transfiguration and defense given that he feared if anyone would be able to tell he was having very inappropriate thoughts, it was likely to be either McGonagall or Snape. Harry avoided all eye contact with Snape to avoid the possibility of the man plucking those fantasies from his increasingly deprived mind.

Harry blamed shock and general teenage horniness for why it took him so long to realize that these dreams were odd in another very important aspect. During these dreams, he wasn’t _Harry_. Granted, in his other normal dreams it was common enough that people’s identities changed arbitrarily. Even his own identity wasn’t set in stone. He could be dream-Harry one moment, and then someone calls him another name and he’s someone or something else. What was odd about _these_ dreams was that he was _never_ Harry. He was always Voldemort doing things _to Harry_. It was this fact that eventually clued him in that these weren’t dreams at all.

In his own defense, he never woke up in pain. Embarrassingly sticky maybe, but never with any pain radiating from his scar. It seemed like Voldemort could control whether or not Harry experienced pain through their connection. And as long as he could stick his dick in Harry, the dark lord was content to take his frustrations out on Harry physically rather than mentally. Who knew being a pain in Harry’s ass would be enough to satisfy a temperamental dark lord?

Once Harry realized that the ‘dreams’ were actually real-life events, he obsessed over the how and why. He couldn’t figure out the latter, but eventually he was able to piece together the how. Fortunately, Harry was not sleepwalking to Voldemort as he had initially feared. Unfortunately, the truth was just as worrying. Somehow death eaters were getting their hands on his DNA and using Polyjuice to please their lord. The biggest clue was when Voldemort halted one of his longer sexcapade sessions to feed ‘Harry’ a potion. The real Harry was able to identify it by look.

His other clue was so obvious in retrospect that he wondered how he hadn’t immediately seen the dreams for what they were. His only defense is that he was so shocked by the main content of these dreams that he overlooked vital information that came at the end of each session. Voldemort expected his polyjuiced partners to both enter and leave his room while disguised. Despite this, he always acknowledged his death eater partner as they took their leave. He thanked them by name.

There were six in total, and each served a particular purpose. Or rather, a particular sexual mood that Voldemort wished to indulge in the nights he called for them.

Harry personally thought that Alecto Carrow was the most convincing Harry. She set the scene with a defiant Harry, and really made the dark lord work for it. Consequently, she was the only one that got away with using the dark lord’s name in the bedroom. Voldemort probably allowed it since it mostly spilled from Alecto-Harry’s lips in between breathy moans and pleas while she/he was being pounded. All in all, her performance was so spot on that Harry had trouble distinguishing these visions from the fantasies his own mind thought up to escape the boredom of Professor Bins’ lectures.

Her brother, Amycus was the opposite. Voldemort called on him when he was in the mood for an innocent and submissive Harry. Harry didn’t know how Amycus continuously managed to pull off the innocent act. Harry had witnessed him engage in multiple depraved acts with his lord, and yet his wide-eyed virginal act never failed to be believable. Had Voldemort approached the real Harry before he’d been privy to these dreams, Harry would have been that wide-eyed vanilla boy. Though Harry didn’t think he could ever be as submissive as Amycus. Plus, there were some kinks the two indulged in that Harry himself wouldn’t find pleasure in being on the receiving end. For example, Harry wouldn’t get sexual pleasure from being spanked. However, having experienced the dream from Voldemort’s perspective, Harry saw the appeal in spanking someone, or watching as someone else was spanked. Similarly, when Voldemort ‘introduced’ Amycus-Harry to sounding, the real Harry was fascinated as much as he was disturbed. Again, he would not want to be on the receiving end, but he had grown impatient waiting for a vision of Voldemort repeating that particular performance.

Thorfinn Rowle provided his lord with another version of a submissive Harry. Somewhat. He had the submissive part down, but Voldemort often found his Harry-performance to be lacking. Consequently, most scenes with Rowle ended with the man in bondage. This gave Voldemort the visual of Harry at his mercy and cut down on how much play-acting Rowle had to do. Oddly enough, despite Rowle’s poor performance, these scenes were closer to what Harry would be comfortable with if Harry were to explore sexual submission. He got a thrill whenever he imagined being tied to Voldemort’s bed. There was a certain appeal in being tied spread-eagle, unable to prevent the dark lord from looking or touching his most private areas. Harry was less keen on blindfolds and gags, but they weren’t hard noes. He was especially curious about how the penis gag that Voldemort was particularly fond of would feel.

Selwyn gave a pretty convincing performance, managing to invoke the defiant characteristics Voldemort enjoyed with Alecto. Though Selwyn was too nervous to call the dark lord ‘Voldemort’ like Harry would have. It might have ruined the Harry Potter performance, if the man hadn’t taken other liberties. The difference between Alecto and Selwyn’s scenes were subtle. With the former, Voldemort usually overpowered ‘Harry’ until the boy reluctantly found himself enjoying every filthy thing the older man did to him. That was victory enough for the dark lord. With Selwyn, there was always a hint of humiliation; pointing out how much ‘Harry’ is enjoying his enemy’s cock, pointedly making the boy do the work and ride him, or pulling out at the last minute to ejaculate on Selwyn-Harry and later rubbing it into his skin. In return, Selwyn-Harry had the most freedom of Voldemort’s lovers to choose the direction of their game. If the man preferred to give a blowjob, he’d simply fall to his knees and beg for Voldemort’s cock. If he desired to be fucked, he merely had to present. Selwyn-Harry could be greedy and demand a particular kind of attention so long as it played out like Voldemort managed to turn Harry into his hungry cockslut.

Speaking of Voldemort’s cocksluts; Harry didn’t quite know how to classify Voldemort’s sessions with Bellatrix. On the one hand, she was such a fanatic that she couldn’t be classified as anything but submissive to Voldemort. On the other hand, she was such an aggressive lover that Harry couldn’t think of her as submissive like the others. It was this combination that fascinated Voldemort when he saw it on Harry’s face. The dark lord gained a twisted sort of pleasure at seeing such blind devotion from his enemy. He enjoyed the easy way Bellatrix-Harry called him master or lord. It was easy to imagine that these scenes were the result of months or years work of turning his enemy into his most devoted follower. The appeal lasted only so long as Bellatrix was able to keep from overselling it. Which was sadly a short amount of time. These sessions usually ended the same way – Bellatrix-Harry on her/his knees pleasuring the dark lord with one of the best blowjobs he’d experienced. As much as Harry hated Bellatrix’s involvement with these dreams, he found them most informative. As he wasn’t in Bellatrix body or mind, he couldn’t master her technique through the dreams. But they gave him a better sense of how to give a blowjob and what Voldemort found most enjoyable. Harry figured that when he gave his first blowjob, this knowledge would ensure he didn’t look like a complete fool.

Severus Snape had been the most shocking partner on multiple accounts. For starters, the man was so unpleasant, both in personality and looks, that Harry hadn’t seen anything sexually appealing about the man himself. The thought of Snape having sex had Harry instinctually cringing. But even more shocking was learning all of Snape’s kinks. The biggest and most shocking was the daddy kink. When Harry had first learnt that was a thing, he had been confused and honestly put off by the idea. In retrospect, that could have been because he had overheard a conversation between Piers and Dudley, and they were vile regardless of what they were discussing. It wasn’t until the first time Snape-Harry uttered a shy ‘daddy’ and Voldemort responded with a sweet ‘baby boy’, that Harry thought he understood. Harry still felt some unease given their personal history, though he made no attempt to stop Snape once he figured out his professor was the one collecting Harry’s hair for the potion (and probably brewing it in the first place). As Harry was leaving the defense classroom one afternoon, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. His professor had silently summoned the loose hairs that had naturally fallen out and clung to Harry’s robes. Harry pretended not to notice. That night he decided to go to bed early, eager to see how the newest Snape-Harry dream would playout. If in the shower the next morning, Harry masturbated to the memory of Voldemort saying, “are you going to be good for daddy?”, well, no one had to know that the concept of daddy-Voldemort was growing on him.

Of course, once he knew how Voldemort was pulling off these scenes, Harry struggled with figuring out if he was an accomplice in his own debauchery. His silence on the matter combined with his inaction of stopping Snape from collecting his hairs might be interpreted as permission. He may not like everything Voldemort did to his body while someone else was wearing it, but he was letting it continue. More disturbingly, was he giving Snape and Bellatrix permission to use him that way? Oddly, Harry was more comfortable with allowing Voldemort access to his body than letting Snape and Bellatrix see him naked on a regular basis.

This concern drove him to the library in the dead of night when no one could see what he was looking up. Hermione questioning his sudden interest in grooming charms was an embarrassment he wanted to avoid. He could hardly tell her that at least seven people were frequently seeing him naked and he felt compelled to leave a good impression.

Harry’s research had mixed results. He found no spells to properly tame his hair, but that sort of thing probably didn’t carry over with Polyjuice anyway. He did find some hair removal and trimming spells that he put to good use. He wasn’t confident enough to remove all his pubic hair. Harry rather liked Voldemort’s completely bare look, but Harry wasn’t sure if he could pull it off. Not with four roommates that were sure to take the piss if they noticed. So, he strategically removed some of his hair and trimmed the rest. He wasn’t sure if it was up to manscaping standards, but it was at least an improvement over his natural wild state. He was tempted to give the shaved coarse hairs to Snape for his Polyjuice potions. The look on the man’s face would be priceless, but Harry didn’t want to reveal that he knew about the man’s questionable sex life.

The library also provided several other spells Harry found useful. He used manicure spells to keep his nails trimmed and tidy. A couple of charms removed dead skins cells and kept his skin feeling soft. The most useful discovery was the internal cleansing spell. Harry assumed each of his imposters used the spell before entering Voldemort’s rooms as he’d never witnessed any _unfortunate messes_ that might arise with the amount of anal sex his body was put through. Harry practiced the spell until he mastered it, though he had to wonder what muggles did in this situation without the spell. Harry wasn’t clear on whether the internal cleansing spell would carry over for the people polyjuicing into him, but Harry had seen enough to know that the spell would be useful for him in the future. One day he would want to know what <strike>Voldemort’s</strike> a cock would feel like in him, so that spell would certainly be handy.

It was unfortunate that Bellatrix was the first to benefit from Harry’s improved grooming. She hadn’t been able to resist twisting and turning to show off all the changes Harry had made.

“Who do you think ickle Harry is fucking?” she asked her lord in that crude and condescending way she usually used just before torturing someone.

Voldemort hadn’t been as eager to explore the possibilities, even if he appreciated Harry’s grooming efforts. Harry didn’t know if it was his imagination or not, but the dark lord almost seemed jealous at the prospect of Harry having a lover. Harry could understand that sentiment. It seemed unfair that the others got to use his body to feel things he hadn’t yet explored for himself. The more of these dreams he had, the more he begun to imagine exploring it with Voldemort.

He could, couldn’t he? Harry could pretend to be one of the death eaters pretending to be him. He could walk right into Voldemort’s room and loose his virginity in what was sure to be a mind-blowing experience. It was unlikely that Voldemort discussed his sex life with his followers, so Harry wouldn’t have to worry that the man would later ask his lover about the experience and discover that he’d had the real Harry moaning under him. Surely Harry could get away with it at least once. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed feasible.

Harry developed a plan, despite consistently warning himself it was a terrible idea. It was both a blessing and a curse that Voldemort had no set schedule. Had there been a consistent rotation, Harry would have had to include knocking out one of his imposters, which added a level of complexity he was happy to avoid. The downside was the risk that Harry would show up on the same night that Voldemort requested one of his lovers. Harry deemed the safest bet was to pick a night following an evening of debauchery.

The next hurdle was choosing which death eater he ought to be. Harry knew his inexperience wouldn’t be suspicious if he was Amycus-Harry. Harry’s genuine reactions to experiencing everything for the first time would be interpreted as a roleplay where the dark lord got to ruin his enemy. Alas, he couldn’t predict which of Amycus’ kinks the dark lord would indulge in. Since Amycus never told Voldemort no, Harry would be found out if refused to indulge in any sexual act.

Selwyn-Harry might not say an outright no, but he would be able to manipulate the scene into something Harry would be more comfortable with. But that required a finesse that Harry didn’t think he was capable of. Plus, and Harry didn’t like admitting this, Harry held on to the hope that his first time would be somehow special. Granted not many people could say they willingly lost their virginity to their biggest foe, so it was bound to be _special_ regardless. But Harry wanted the kind of special where he was treated kindly, even while being sullied six ways to Sunday. Perhaps even a little reverently. He wouldn’t get that by pretending to be Selwyn-Harry. As hot as it was to wank to the idea of Voldemort taking him any and every which way, the reality would likely be terrifying at first.

Bellatrix and Rowle were crossed out as options rather quickly. They both had the same pitfall: Harry didn’t think he could purposely badly play-act himself. Bellatrix didn’t even try, and Harry knew he could never pull off her blind devotion. He doubted any actor could match Bellatrix’s particular brand of sycophant. Or her admittedly stellar blowjob skills. Harry wouldn’t have to playact for long as Rowle-Harry given the dark lord usually gagged the man fairly early on. But Harry knew if his poor acting skills didn’t give him away immediately then his hesitation each time Voldemort progressed their kinky play would. If he chose either of them, Harry would be so focused on pretending to be a poor imposter of himself and more comfortable with acts and kinks he’s never tried, that he feared he wouldn’t enjoy the experience.

That left Alecto or Snape. Harry would be the closest to himself as Alecto-Harry. He could talk back and if he slipped with Voldemort’s name, it wouldn’t register as odd. Unfortunately, Harry feared he would give away the game with his inevitable virginal hesitancy. Alecto-Harry may occasionally play at being untouched, but the second Voldemort spread her/his legs and entered her/him, Alecto-Harry eagerly pushed back into him. It would certainly be obvious when Harry failed to do the same. Perhaps Voldemort would be distracted enough by his own pleasure, but Harry wouldn’t bet his life on it. Frankly, Harry didn’t want to die right after Voldemort finished getting off in him. It might be the most pleasurable way to go, but Harry had more self-preservation than that (if only just). That being said, if the night went well and Harry got away with his scheme, he might be crazy enough to try for a second round. Perhaps he could pull off Alecto-Harry once he knew what to expect physically.

Harry hated to concede that Snape-Harry was the safest option that would provide a pleasurable experience Harry could later walk away from. Harry’s familiarity with the dour man had the unexpected benefit of giving Harry enough insight that he could pull off a convincing Snape as well as a Snape-Harry. He was even confident he could pull off being Voldemort’s ‘baby boy’. He even practiced saying “daddy” aloud a few times so he wouldn’t stumbled over it like a noob. It helped that Voldemort and Snape barely skimmed age play. Dean had once mentioned that was a thing people did. Since he was dating Ginny, Ron took offense and sent a stinging hex at his roommate. It effectively shutdown that conversation, so Harry hadn’t known _exactly_ what age play entailed but he could guess. He assumed it would go hand in hand with the daddy kink. Snape-Harry occasionally had an almost childlike innocence when he called Voldemort daddy. And Voldemort had called Snape-Harry a brat a few times (oh boy, will Harry have a hard time hearing Snape call him that again knowing what he knows now about Snape’s daddy kink), but it wasn’t like Snape was pretending to be a child or anything. Which was good because Harry was more interested in sucking Voldemort’s cock than his own thumb. Though he did enjoy the idea of being called ‘baby’. For Harry, the daddy kink appeal was more about basking in the attention and being taken care of (dare he say coddled). Out of all available options, it sounded like the best way to feel special when Harry lost his virginity.

Having chosen which fake Harry he would pretend to be, Harry’s next step was to figure out where all these trysts happened. The room was large and lavish in the way Harry pictured the Malfoys living in. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t know for sure unless he went there. It wasn’t like Draco Malfoy would confirm if he had a dark lord in his pompously elegant guest room. Nor would he provide Harry his address so that Harry could waltz in and check for himself. Unable to think of a good alternative, Harry decided to go with the insane plan of following Snape until he met Voldemort at his love shack.

Armed with his cloak and map, Harry spent several nights trailing after his most loathed professor (Snape regained the title once Umbridge was out). It was surprisingly easy to locate Snape’s rooms and overhear his password. It was “doe” though Harry was baffled as to why. If the dour man was going to go with something animal themed, Harry would have guessed “snake” or “vampire bat”. Though, Harry supposed that the purpose of a password was to pick something others wouldn’t guess. Since Snape shouldn’t be anywhere near an animal as sweet as a doe, it served quite well as a barrier to his rooms.

After a dreadfully long time (about 2 weeks), Harry painstakingly mapped out Snape’s schedule. The most surprising discovery, after the whole daddy thing, was that Snape met with professors McGonagall and Sinistra on Tuesdays for a boardgame night. All in all, Harry had a decent picture of Snape’s office hours, patrol duties, and his afternoon tea dates with Dumbledore. He now knew the best times he could sneak in and out of the man’s rooms without Snape noticing his presence.

Unfortunately, Voldemort didn’t seem inclined to use Snape any time soon. Harry diligently snuck into Snape’s quarters and waited for the dour man to be called up. And waited. And waited some more.

Instead, Voldemort had Bellatrix-Harry come over for a night of cockwarming. At least he tried to. Bellatrix was too excitable when near her lord. She couldn’t remain still enough for Voldemort to concentrate on the papers in front of him. He didn’t bother keeping her the whole hour the Polyjuice gave them. The next night, hidden under his invisibility cloak, Harry knelt on Snape’s cold floor with three of his fingers in his mouth and tried not to move. Harry was too uncomfortable to keep the position for long. He feared he might have done worse than Bellatrix. Perhaps he’d have better luck keeping Voldemort’s cock warm in his ass while he sat on the man’s lap... assuming the man didn’t think it was Harry’s clever ploy to spy on war secrets.

A few nights later, Alecto-Harry was ‘captured’. She/he fought Voldemort and attempted to escape. Naturally she/he didn’t get far. Voldemort tackled her/him inches away from the door. He didn’t both to bring Alecto-Harry back to the bed; the dark lord took her/him right there on the floor facing the door that would have meant freedom. A firm hand in her/his hair kept their head up, body taunt, and frequently clenching down on the cock she/he was impaled on. Once Alecto-Harry came, the dark lord pushed their shoulders to the floor. A hand around the back of their neck, kept Alecto-Harry pinned as Voldemort used their body to chase his own release. Harry spent the following day constantly clasping the back of his neck. When Hermione noticed, he shrugged and told her he had a kink in his neck (and then silently laughed at his own double-entendre). That night, within the safety of his canopy bed, Harry tugged on his hair with one hand while he fisted his cock with the other.

The night Voldemort finally called on Snape, Harry was ready and waiting. Having snuck into the man’s rooms a half an hour earlier, he was able to watch as Snape retrieved a potion and jumped into his fireplace. When Snape called our ‘Malfoy Manor’ as his destination, Harry felt vindicated at guessing the correct location, but also foolish for not having guessed ‘Malfoy Manor’ as the address. He could have snuck in weeks ago instead of waiting for Snape.

Harry waited a couple of minutes to follow Snape. He would like to claim that he reconsidered his foolhardy plan before tossing in the floo powder, but he didn’t. His dick was speaking, and it was a lot louder than the supposed angel on his shoulder. The sex gods must have been smiling down on Harry, because no one was waiting in the Malfoy’s entry room when he stumbled out of the fireplace with an arm and a leg moving out from under the safety of the cloak. His luck held when he moved into the house proper. Snape was the only person in the vicinity. Or rather, Snape-Harry as the man had already used the Polyjuice potion and transfigured his usually black robes to resemble the students’ uniform minus the cloak. Harry smirked at the thought of Snape grumbling at having to wear Gryffindor colours.

His feet made no sound and he quickly ascended the stairs after Snape. With the amount of money and pride the Malfoys had, Harry was willing to bet fifty galleons that there wasn’t a single stair or floorboard that squeaked in the whole manor.

Snape-Harry stopped in front of a door that was surprisingly close to the entryway. It certainly made Harry’s job easier if he didn’t run into anyone... and no one would notice if he knocked out Snape-Harry and took his place. Snape-Harry was too busy straightening his clothes, adjusting his tie, and _trying_ to tame his hair to notice someone sneaking up behind him. It was stupidly risky as Snape would have questions when he woke, but... Harry was sporting a semi, and daddy was so close. Just as Harry considered how he could deflect suspicion from himself by framing a jealous Bellatrix, Snape-Harry abruptly knocked. A clear “enter” responded, and Snape-Harry was in the room faster than Harry could even think the word ‘stupefy’.

With a heavy heart, Harry turned back around and returned to school. With the man otherwise occupied, it was easy for Harry to sneak out of the professor’s room. He quickly made his way to his dorm. If he couldn’t enjoy the man himself, he could enjoy watching it happen. Sadly, Harry was too ramped up from his adventure out of school to fall asleep quickly. Whatever fucking the two men had done, was over by the time he entered the dream. Instead, Snape-Harry was curled into Voldemort’s side. The big bad dark lord was running a hand through his hair, petting him softly, and murmured “my boy is so good to me.” When Harry woke up bitter and consequently glared at his greasy professor nonstop the following day, no one thought it was odd. Their mutual dislike for one another was well-known.

Despite knowing where Voldemort was and how to get there safely, Harry still had to wait before he would implement his plan. His best bet showing up unannounced was still the day following one of Voldemort’s booty calls. However, it did not seem smart to show up pretending to be Snape-Harry the day after Voldemort had the real Snape-Harry. It was torture waiting for Voldemort to get randy enough to invite one of his lovers to entertain him.

Rowle-Harry was the next one given the honour of pleasing his lord. As usual for their sessions, Voldemort had him tied up. However, instead of being tied to the bed, the dark lord strung him up suspended from the ceiling in a makeshift magical sex swing. The moans the man made caused Harry to make a mental note to try it one day. But that was for the future. Today, Harry was going to lose his virginity. To Voldemort. While he called him daddy. It was insane.

Harry spent the day fluctuating between feeling terrified and horny. His classes seemed to drag by, and his friends remained glued to him from the afternoon all through supper. He’d spent an hour in the common room, trying and failing to focus on his homework. Partway through, Harry had used the excuse of needing the bathroom in order to apply some preparation spells while he was thinking of them. He was somewhat successful distracting himself by talking to Ron about quidditch, but even that couldn’t engage him for long. He’d finally made his excuses by pretending Snape gave him detention (he was overusing it lately and Hermione was surely getting suspicious). He had no trouble sneaking down to Snape’s room with the invisibility cloak and map in his bag.

He slipped in to the professor’s room a couple of minutes after the man left to supervise an actual detention. Afterwards, the man would roam the halls deducting house points from those he caught out after hours. Harry would have plenty of time to floo to the Malfoys, get fucked, and sneak back to Hogwarts before the professor retired for the night.

Like last time, no one was in the entry hall to witness Harry’s ungraceful arrival. He was equally undisturbed as he made his way up the stairs and to the door Snape had gone through the other night. Harry hid his backpack under his cloak just outside the door. He pressed his ear to the door but couldn’t hear any noises from within the room. Harry didn’t give himself time to chicken out and rapt sharply on the door.

“Enter,” Voldemort called. Taking a deep breath and promising to build a shrine to Aphrodite and Eros if tonight went the way he planned, Harry turned the handle and stepped into Voldemort’s bedroom.

The man sat at a desk set up on the corner of the room. When Harry appeared before him, the dark lord lowered the scroll he was reading and placed it with the other papers that littered the surface of the desk. Harry might have been amused by the man’s clear surprise if it wasn’t so dangerous for Harry’s health.

“I’m sorry for just showing up,” Harry said. He watched as Voldemort stood up from the desk. Harry was suddenly both terrified _and_ horny. He should probably clarify which fake-Harry he was pretending to be before he found himself spanked for taking unwarranted liberties or choking on his lord’s cock because he was clearly too fanatical to stay away. “I just missed you, daddy,” Harry was quite proud that he didn’t stumble over the honorific.

Voldemort made his way over to the nervous boy. For a moment Harry feared he’d get a crucio for interrupting the clearly busy dark lord. However, instead of reaching for his wand, the older man reached for Harry’s tie. He smoothed it down Harry’s chest, using the opportunity to continue running his hands over Harry’s torso. “Sorry baby,” Voldemort responded. A wicked gleam entered his red eyes and he hooked a finger in one of Harry’s belt loops. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“I know,” Harry’s breath hitched as Voldemort used his hold on him to pull Harry’s lower half towards him. “Does this mean I can stay?”

“We have a bit a of time,” Voldemort said agreeably. It served to remind Harry that he was on a strict time limit. He would have to be out the door before the Polyjuice potion was supposed to wear off.

The dark lord ran his hands back up Harry’s chest. He watched Harry intently as he pinched one nipple. Even with a layer of cloth preventing skin on skin contact, it was one of the most intense feelings Harry had experienced. Looking like the cat that ate the canary, Voldemort undid Harry’s tie. He dragged the right side down, letting the material slide across Harry’s body sensually. Once the tie passed over Harry, Voldemort let it fall to the floor and turned his attention to the buttons on Harry’s shirt.

“Beautiful,” the man said appreciatively once his shirt was undone and he had a tantalizing view of the chest he’d been rubbing against. Harry would have scoffed at the compliment, except he believed the man when he said it. After all, he wouldn’t have all six of his lovers transform into Harry if he didn’t find him physically appealing, would he?

Voldemort push the shirt off Harry’s shoulders then leaned in to kiss at Harry’s neck. Harry let gravity do its thing, and let the shirt slip the rest of the way off. He nervously placed his hands on Voldemort’s waist, and the older man hummed his approval. As their lower halves met, Harry couldn’t help but moan at the contact. Instinctively, he frotted against Voldemort. The dark lord allowed it as he continued to litter kisses across Harry’s neck and upper chest.

Voldemort pulled away slightly to allow enough room for his hands to slip downwards. He reached for Harry’s belt buckle, but merely toyed with it. Bringing their foreheads together, the dark lord took in the vision of his breathless baby boy. Lust-filled eyes met and Harry was overcome with the need to fuck. It was more intense than any of his dreams had been.

“Did you clean up for me, baby?” Voldemort asked.

“Yes,” Harry said breathlessly.

“_Everywhere_?” Voldemort verified in a significant manner. Even Harry’s lust-addled brain quickly understood that Voldemort was asking about the enema spell.

“Yes, daddy,” Harry said. He didn’t miss the wicked gleam that came over the man’s face. With a smirk, Voldemort undid Harry’s belt.

“Take off your shoes,” Voldemort ordered. Harry had never followed an order so fast. He kicked off his shoes and left them near his discarded shirt and tie. He bent down to remove his socks for good measure.

“All of it, baby,” Voldemort said once Harry straightened up and looked at him expectantly. Harry nervously took off his trousers and pants in one go. While intimidated about being laid bare in front of someone, it wasn’t like Voldemort hadn’t seen it all already. Harry was more nervous about the mess he made leaving his clothes crumpled on the ground. Fortunately, Voldemort was preoccupied with the unobstructed view of Harry’s penis. Without any clothes in the way, his cock was free to bounce up in a perverted version of hello.

Harry was keenly aware that Voldemort was still fully clothed while Harry stood bare. It was ridiculously unfair, but also exceedingly hot. “You too, daddy,” Harry suggested.

“In a bit. I want my boy on the bed first,” Voldemort responded. It was insane how much Harry preferred the term ‘boy’ coming from Voldemort’s mouth over Vernon’s.

Harry didn’t resist when Voldemort wrapped an arm around him and led him to the bed. He eagerly sat on the bed and looked up at Voldemort. Harry had seen many similar scenarios in his dreams, but this was different. He wasn’t watching it second hand from Voldemort’s eyes. Instead he was taken apart by Voldemort’s hungry stare. It was so much more intense. Harry suddenly understood Bellatrix’s eager devotion as he wanted nothing more in this moment than to have Voldemort whip out his cock and demand he suck it. Much to Voldemort’s amusement, Harry was making his perverted thoughts known by staring at the bulge in the man’s trousers and licking his lips.

“Can you get on your hands and knees for me, my sweet?” Voldemort asked as he brushed a hand through his needy boy’s wild locks.

So eager to comply, Harry nodded his agreement as he was already turning around. He heard an amused chuckle behind him, but before embarrassment could set in, the dark lord was settling behind him and running soothing hands over his back.

“So good for me,” Voldemort praised. “My boy deserves the best.”

Before Harry could ask what he meant by that, Voldemort parted Harry’s cheeks and got his first look at the real Harry’s virgin hole. Harry sucked in a nervous breath and couldn’t help but fidget a bit.

“Shh, let daddy see,” Voldemort soothed. He glided his thumb over the puckered entrance to tease the boy. Harry tensed momentary but quickly relaxed again. Despite his nerves, Harry was eager. Afterall, Voldemort’s attention was exactly where Harry had hoped it would be when he showed up for this night. Hell, if Voldemort asked him to, Harry would hold himself open for the man.

Harry let out a desperate whine when Voldemort suddenly leant down and licked a stripe up Harry’s anus. He swirled the tip of his tongue around Harry’s hole, then pulled back slightly to blow at the moisture he left there.

“Fuck,” Harry swore as his head dropped down to rest against the bed. He fisted the sheets tightly so that he couldn’t fist his cock like he wanted to. If he wanked now, he’d come with just a few strokes and he wanted this to last a little longer. This was something he had wanted since the first time he saw Voldemort rim one of his doppelgangers. Harry could easily reach for his cock or prod at his own entrance with curious fingers, but he couldn’t bring his own mouth there. It was a crying shame because this was amazing and Harry didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the feeling.

The glide of the dark lord’s tongue up and down and around his hole left Harry as a shaking mess. He moaned wantonly the first time Voldemort’s nimble tongue pushed inside. Harry shivered as Voldemort slid his tongue in and out and hoped the man meant it as a precursor of what was to come with his cock. He didn’t have to look to know he’d already left the sheets soaked with precome. He’s dripped so steadily, he might as well be a faucet. The strain of holding his arse up increased with each pass of Voldemort’s tongue and his legs quickly turned into jelly. He didn’t ever want the feeling to end, but when Voldemort sealed his mouth over his hole, Harry knew it had to.

“Daddy, daddy,” Harry moaned urgently. With a strength he hadn’t known he possessed, Harry moved away from the most heavenly sensation he had ever known. “I’m going to come if you continue.”

“You can come baby,” Voldemort allowed. He gently pulled Harry’s arse back towards him.

“Wait,” Harry panted as he felt Voldemort’s breath tease over his hole. “I want to come when you’re in me.”

“You can come then too,” Voldemort suggested. “You know daddy will help you come all night, baby,” Voldemort promised, and fuck if it was not the most tempting offer Harry had ever heard. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times Voldemort could make him come in one night. But it’s something he would have to live without knowing, because he only had one hour – significantly less now – to make sure he lost his virginity good and proper. If Voldemort’s cock didn’t find its way into his arse soon, Harry didn’t think he could risk coming back a second night.

“Please,” Harry whined and Voldemort stopped his decent back towards his boy’s tempting hole. Despite asking for it, Harry whined again in disappointment when Voldemort pulled away. The older man huffed in amusement.

Harry turned his head so he could see Voldemort pull out his wand. As the man was still fully clothed, it was no surprise his wand was so handy. Harry’s was somewhere with his pile of discarded clothes. Not his smartest move, but Harry was lying arse up in front of the dark lord, so he had no illusions about his own intelligence. Then again, the pleasure thrumming through his body made him feel pretty fucking smart.

Voldemort wordlessly opened the top drawer in his bedside table and summoned a bottle of lube. He left it resting against Harry’s leg as he moved to undress. It’s an arousing sight to see each layer of clothing disappear one by one.

Harry no longer felt right on the verge of an orgasm, but he couldn’t stop the shivers of anticipation when Voldemort settled behind him and popped the bottle of lube open. The man warmed up the lube on his fingers before once again turning his undivided attention to Harry’s hole. His fingers traced the same path his tongue had by circling the opening. Harry briefly tensed but by the time Voldemort pushed one finger in, it slid in with no resistance. Harry knew from his own experimentation that he could take two fingers easily. But his own fingers have never been enough. The book he’d found his other spells in did not mention how to transfigure a dildo, so Harry did not know what the _more_ he’d been craving would feel like. But he wanted it.

“Do you like that, baby?” Voldemort asked as he scissored the two fingers he currently had in his boy.

“Yes, daddy,” Harry murmured obediently. He spread his legs apart more lest Voldemort thought Harry was merely humouring him. The action drew a pleased hum from the dark lord. Soon enough a third finger joined the others already in Harry. That one was a stretch, but it didn’t stop Harry from moaning and pushing back towards Voldemort.

“More, daddy,” Harry demanded. Voldemort didn’t increase his pace or add another finger, but eventually he humoured his boy and sought out his prostate. Unrelentingly, he stoked it, turning Harry into a desperate moaning mess.

“Please, please,” Harry begged as he felt his orgasm build up again. Voldemort pulled his fingers out before Harry hit his peak. “No, daddy, _daddy_,” Harry moaned and thrust backwards seeking those fingers.

“I thought you wanted my dick, baby,” Voldemort said. He was amused as he watched his boy blindly thrust backwards for something that was no longer there.

“Yes,” Harry conceded and tried to calm down as he was reminded of his ultimate goal. A task made difficult as he turned to watch Voldemort coat his cock with more lube. The dark lord pumping his cock was a tantalizing sight. Harry sadly had to look away so he didn’t come prematurely from just watching.

Voldemort moved back towards his waiting lover. In a surprising move, the dark lord leaned over to kiss the base of Harry’s spine. The sweetness of the moment was quickly overshadowed when he moved to properly align himself and rubbed his cock over Harry’s hole, leaving lube and precome in its wake.

“Ready?” he asked as he held himself steady with one hand and the other gripped Harry’s hip tight. Harry had barely nodded his consent before Voldemort was pushing in. They both groaned at the feeling.

“Fuck, Harry,” Voldemort moaned. As much as Harry liked being ‘baby boy’, it was nice to hear his proper name.

“Yes, daddy,” Harry groaned at the full feeling he got from having Voldemort’s cock in him. “You should fuck Harry,” he encouraged as the older man paused to wait for Harry to adjust to the feeling.

Voldemort started out slowly, but it was unnecessary. Harry wondered if it made him a slut that he barely needed time to adjust to the intrusion before he was shifting back and begging for more, harder, faster. The drag of Voldemort’s cock moving in and out was just this side of painful, but Harry was a little in love with the feeling. He moaned every time he clenched down and felt Voldemort dick holding him open.

Voldemort moved in and out of Harry, aiming for his prostate until the boy was teetering on the edge orgasm. Then he would slow down and change the angle until Harry was no longer about to explode. Harry quickly became a moaning, whimpering mess, so different than his usual quiet and efficient masturbatory sessions in the dorm.

“No, daddy,” Harry complained when Voldemort completely pulled out as Harry once again neared his peak. He was quickly turned over. From his new position on his back, Harry watched Voldemort’s hungry expression as he hooked Harry’s legs over his arms and pushed back in. Harry sighed at the delightful pressure he felt as Voldemort re-entered him.

Harry thought he preferred the previous position more, but face to face had the added benefit of watching Voldemort’s expression as he fucked him. The possessive look he gave Harry as his eyes swept over his body didn’t hurt either. The unexpected danger this position presented was that Harry keep finding himself on the verge of saying Voldemort. He panted a few ‘Voh’ sounds before catching it. He hoped the dark lord just thought Harry made weird sex sounds instead of picking up that it was the start of his name. It wasn’t that he forgot who had been fucking him when he was on his hands and knees, but the temptation to say ‘Voldemort’ hadn’t been as strong.

The second danger this position posed were his suddenly idle hands. Without having to hold himself up, his hands gravitated towards his cock. Harry was too close to coming that if he allowed more than one stroke at a time it would certainly push him over the edge. He honestly didn’t know how he hadn’t come yet. To distract his hands from his cock, he trailed them over Voldemort’s body. For the most part, it was mere exploration, but whenever the dark lord gave a particularly hard thrust, Harry’s nails dragged across his back or shoulder blades in retaliation. If his moans of ‘Harry’ and ‘baby’ weren’t enough indication, Voldemort encouraged the scratches with increasingly frequent hard thrusts.

“Harry,” this time his name was spoken with more urgency. Harry glanced up at Voldemort’s face and shuddered at the dark desire he saw. Voldemort’s hand migrated to Harry’s cock and didn’t stop stroking until Harry came with a long drawn out moan. Voldemort pulled up enough so he could watch as a thick rope of come painted Harry’s chest. He waited until the boy could focus on him once more, then leaned down and lapped at the come he could easily reach. Harry’s breath hitched at the sight and he clamped down on the cock still moving in him.

“_Harry_,” Voldemort said and pushed in as far as he could go. The boy watched the dark lord’s face as he came. It wasn’t a sight he got to see in his dreams. Warmth flooded his insides and Harry sighed at the delightfully filthy feeling of having another man’s come in him.

For a next couple of minutes, the only sound in the room was their panting as they both tried to catch their breath.

Harry moaned when Voldemort pulled out.

“Now that’s a sight,” the dark lord said as he watched his come trickle out of the boy. He was even more delighted when Harry didn’t pull away and instead let his legs fall open to allow the dark lord to look to his heart’s content. In return, Voldemort licked a line up Harry’s chest, smack dab in the middle of the pool of Harry’s come. Once his face was level with Harry’s, he leaned in and stole a kiss. Harry should be worried that his inexperience with kissing would be obvious, or grossed out at tasting his own come, but frankly he found it appropriate that Voldemort made their first kiss so filthy.

Voldemort summoned a washcloth, which he wet with a flick of his wand. He ran it over the remaining come cooling on Harry’s chest. Harry relaxed into the feeling of having someone take care of him. And if Voldemort spent a little too much time cleaning the come coming out of his arse, Harry didn’t say anything. Thus far he enjoyed the man’s preoccupation with that part of his anatomy.

Once they were clean and all wet spots on the sheets had been charmed away, Voldemort laid down next to Harry and pulled him into his arms. He ran a soothing hand down Harry’s back, which Harry thought was rather nice considering Harry mauled the dark lord’s back during their coupling.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Voldemort asked as Harry buried his face in the man’s neck.

“Quite pleased with myself,” Harry said honestly. After all his plan had gone perfectly so far. Voldemort snorted at his answer but didn’t ask him to elaborate.

They laid entangled for awhile. Harry started to drift along the edge of consciousness as he discovered it was rather nice to be petted and held close. It was only a stray thought about the time that shocked Harry back into awareness. He regretfully pulled away and made his excuses for getting back to Hogwarts.

Voldemort slipped into a robe while Harry pulled his uniform back on. He let the man do up his tie and was amused when he charmed the wrinkles out of Harry’s clothes.

“Thank you, daddy,” Harry said dutifully. It sounded superficial, but Harry really was grateful. While he never doubted that the dark lord would be a good lover – how could he after all the dreams he’d had? – he hadn’t expected it to be so good.

“You’re satisfied then, baby?” Voldemort glanced up from his assessment of Harry’s clothes.

“Very,” he answered. The honesty must have come through because a smug and lecherous look came over the man’s face. It was all the more shocking when the dark lord leaned forward and gave Harry a sweet kiss.

“Good night,” Voldemort said against Harry’s lips. Harry echoed him with his own good night before he pulled away.

“Thank you, Harry,” Voldemort said as the boy opened the door. Harry threw a smile over his shoulder. He reluctantly left despite wanting nothing more than to crawl back in to Voldemort’s bed.

His bag was undisturbed under his cloak, and once again he met no one as he made his way back to the floo. He checked the map, and after he confirmed that Snape was near Ravenclaw tower which is nowhere near his rooms, Harry flooed back to the safety of Hogwarts. It was later than he thought. He must have spent too much time snuggling with the dark lord. At least if Voldemort noticed as well, Harry was already safely back at school.

Harry made his way towards the tower under his cloak. He felt giddy and sore, and giddy because he was sore. It was a feeling he thought he could get used to. But it would be crazy to chance another night pretending to be a death eater pretending to be Harry, wouldn’t it? If Voldemort asked Snape about his surprise visit, then the jig would be up. Voldemort would surely know it was Harry-

Harry froze on the stairs as an epiphany slammed into him. Voldemort had said thank you, Harry. Not Severus. _Harry_. He knew. Voldemort made a habit of thanking his lovers when they were done. He called them by their names. It was how Harry knew who was impersonating him. Which meant, that Voldemort had known he had the real Harry in his arms. How long had he known? Had he noticed the time went beyond the hour after all? Or maybe Harry had given it away with his reactions to every new sensation. Fuck, the man was smart enough to know since the very beginning.

Harry continued to make his way to Gryffindor tower as his mind turned over the events of the night. Fear gnawed at his stomach as he considered what Voldemort could do with that information. But it was outweighed by the gratification he felt that Voldemort had known it was him and yet let him leave sore from a good dicking down rather than from a few rounds of the cruciatus curse.

As Harry laid in his bed that night, he couldn’t help but wonder what his dreams would entail now that Voldemort knew Harry reciprocated his desire.


End file.
